


Strike

by sarahjacobs



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Trans Character, Trans Racetrack Higgins, not really angst but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:11:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahjacobs/pseuds/sarahjacobs
Summary: Spot was used to Race coming to the Brooklyn Lodging House when he stayed too late at the Sheepshead races or if it was storming, what Spot was not used to was Race showing up at the door sporting bruises, cuts and black eyes.





	Strike

Spot was used to Race coming to the Brooklyn Lodging House when he stayed too late at the Sheepshead races or if it was storming. He was used to Race showing up randomly for poker games when the Manhattan Newsies refused to play him anymore.

What Spot was not used to was Race showing up at the door sporting bruises, cuts and black eyes.

Spot immediately pulled the taller boy into the Lodging House.

"What happened?" Spot asked as he helped Racetrack to the washroom.

"The strike happened..." Race grumbles and then groans.

"You guys were serious about that?" Spot asks, surprised.

"Of course we were," Race replies coldly. "And we were all by ourselves because everyone wanted to know what—" Race pauses and tries to take a breath but winces.

Spot closes the door of the washroom and sits Race on the floor against their make-shift tub.

"Racer?" Spot asks worriedly as the boy wheezes whilst trying to breathe.

"'M fine, I'm fine!" Race reassures him and leans his head back.

Spot eyes him warily, not entirely believing him. "Racetrack...maybe—" Spot tries not to stare at the boys chest but Race catches him trying not to.

"I don't need to..." Race says, "I's fine!"

"Well if I'm gonna clean you up," Spot shrugs, "Gotta check your ribs."

"I can clean myself up," Race says. He rises angrily but stumbles back, Spot quickly catches him and helps him sit back down.

"Then why's ya come here?" Spot asks.

Race doesn't answer.

"C'mon, how long have you been wearing the bandages?" Spot asks.

Race shrugs, "A while."

"That can't be good," Spot says, "You shouldn't keep them wrapped too long or too tight."

"I'll do what I want."

Spot scoffs, "Yeah okay, Racer."

Race stares at the floor before sighing. Spot turns around when Race begins to unbutton his shirt.

"Alright," Race says and Spot turns back around.

"Race..." Spot says when seeing the bruising on his ribs and stomach.

"It's from the fight," Race tells him, holding his shirt against his chest tightly. He moves his shirt slightly so Spot can check his ribs.

"I don't think they're broken," Spot says.

He reaches for the rag on the floor and places it under the water pump. He sits across from Race and gently places the rag on the cut above his eye. Race winces and tries to push him away.

"Race."

"I can do it m'self," Race mumbles and takes the rag from Spot's hand.

"Why'd ya come if you don't want me to help?" Spot asks.

Race doesn't say anything and keeps the rag pressed against a cut. Spot rolls his eyes and reaches forward, taking the rag back and wetting it again.

"You have to help us," Race tells Spot desperately. "They gots—they got Crutchie. We got stomped all over, if you would just—"

"I gotta look out for my boys," Spot interrupts, "And by the looks of you, if we go to help we'll end up the same way. I can't do that to my boys."

"But if you could just send some of your strongest, just show your support then the others will join! Right now it's only Manhattan."

"I have young one's I have to look after," Spot tells him.

"So does 'Hattan!" Race argues.

Spot places the rag down and rubs his temples. "Racer, I'm sorry."

"You said..."gotta prove to you that we won't run,"" Race recalls, "And we haven't and we won't. We gotta look out for each other, Spot."

"My boys come first, Race," Spot sighs. Race nods his head and takes Spot's hand. Spot forces a smile and helps Race up.

Once Race is standing and his shirt is covering him partially, he reaches for the bandages laying on the floor.

"Race," Spot stops him, "Maybe you shouldn't—"

Race stares up at Spot with wide eyes, "I have to."

"But, I just think it would be best not to," Spot says carefully, "Especially not with the bruises and injuries...and stuff."

Race looks about to cry as Spot takes the bandages off the floor.

"I'll keep 'em safe, Race. But right now..."

"People will notice," Race says, "I mean my shirt is already pretty small—"

"We can finds you a big one. Maybe give yours to a younger one and taking one that's too big for them," Spot offers.

Race crosses his arms uncomfortably but nods.

"Look, Race," Spot takes a step closer to him. "You can do what you need to after the bruising fades at least a little? Or when they stop hurting. I just—I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Too late for that," Race grins and points at the cuts and bruises on his face.

Spot flushes and turns away, "I'll go get you a shirt."

When Spot returns with a bigger, blue shirt Race thanks him and quickly tugs it on. Spot turns around just as quickly, his face turning a bright red.

"Okay," Race says softly and Spot turns back to face. Race was rolling up the sleeves so they didn't cover his hands entirely.

"Good?" Spot asks awkwardly.

Race nods, "Uh...thanks, Spot."

"No...problem," Spot clears his throat, "Want to stay here tonight? We got a spare bed, I'll pay for lodging."

"Nah, better get back to Manhattan," Race says and runs a hand through his (badly) cut blonde hair. "Gotta strike to win."

Spot nods.

As Race headed to the door of the bathroom, Spot grabs hold of his wrist. He sees Race flinch and Spot quickly lets go. "Sorry!" Spot says.

"It's fine, your hands were cold," Race laughs.

"Oh," Spot says and slowly reaches out to grab Race's hand again. "See you soon?"

"I don't know," Race shrugs.

Spot frowns and pulls Race closer to him. He hears Race gasp as he presses a kiss to his jaw and Spot smiles. Race leans down and presses a hard kiss against Spot's lips. Spot can't help from smiling as Race wraps his arms around Spot's waist to pull him closer. 

"See you," Race mumbles when they've both parted for air. Spot nods, slightly breathless.

"See you," Spot manages as Race exits the bathroom. 


End file.
